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When he saw her walking slowly from the house to the garden, Ronís breath caught in his throat. He so clearly remembered the first time they were here together... lost, with Hermione bleeding and half-conscious.

When planning the wedding, sheíd wanted somewhere beautiful and meaningful, and had said something about Shell Cottage and coming full circle. He hadnít really understood.

But the sight of her now, beaming as a light breeze whispered against the folds of her gown, brought an ache to his throat and clarity to his thoughts. Sheíd been right: this was a place for making promises.

Name: CoolCatEllyHouse: Huffle&PuffleTitle: Lost and FoundRatings/Warnings: 1-2nd, noneWord Count: 96A/N: I wanted to do Dramione, but Iíve always felt it just doesnít make any sense without a long build-up. Next best thing: ScoLily. :-D

He could see them from the corner of his eye, Lilyís mother smiling, bursting with pride, her uncle clapping her father on the back.

They turned, and he shifted his gaze to their right, to the two empty spaces that had been cleared in the hope that the past might finally be put to rest.

Lily increased the pressure on his hand and he knew she understood.

It was a bittersweet kiss they shared, a single tear falling for the life he has lost forever, ending in a smile at the thought of the one yet to start.

It was funny; in a few minutes time she would have a different name, a new identity. This was something that happened to other people, something you only heard about. She could feel herself floating numbly down the aisle, her future father-in-law on her arm, just feet from the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Her legs guided themselves to the alter. Blue eyes met brown, and chills trailed up and down her lace-covered spine.

Sauntering down the red carpet, Hermione clutched her fatherís arm tightly. Donít trip. Donít stumble. She patiently chanted to herself as her eyes flew across to the guests who had gathered around to watch the entry of the bride. She spotted Harry waving enthusiastically at her while Molly appeared to be crying. After all, today was a truly emotional moment.

''Donít be scared, '' her father whispered. ''Just focus on getting to Ron.''

Nodding her head feebly, Hermione put on a brave smile as every step got her nearer to the altar.

Black hair to pale skin. Hard gaze to soft features. And when the pupils dilate they threaten to devour the entirety of the irises. Drain them of all colour.

She didnít dream of sex last night, but of tenderness. It repulsed her. The sticky sensation of being unclean remained for too long after she had woken up and washed herself. She could still feel it as she got into the white gown.

Yes. Today, dressed in white, she would pledge fidelity to a man whose name would replace hers. He should make no mistake, though; she would always be Black.

As she approached him, walking a sedate pace down the aisle, Ginny fought to keep from laughing as she caught sight of Harry’s hair, sticking up at the back as always. Her mother had tried everything short of a permanent sticking charm to make his hair stay flat, but it had been to no avail.

Ginny didn’t mind. She’d always known that she was not marrying a generic Prince Charming – tall, strong, and handsome. She was marrying her Prince Charming – skinny, bespectacled and war scarred, with hair that stuck up like knarl’s quills – and she couldn’t be happier.